


so you have to SCREAM

by SaekoCrolla (Crollalanza)



Series: Sports Fest 2018 Haikyuu!! [38]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fighting, Gen, Sibling Rivalry, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16568111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/SaekoCrolla
Summary: Compared to his brother, Osamu comes across as a whisper, but when he's riled he screams!





	so you have to SCREAM

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for sportsfest 2018. The prompt was 'your enemy whispers, so you have to scream' and sowlmates drew this https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/8539.html?thread=1390683#cmt1390683 and kindly gave me permission to remix it as a fic.

Aran is deemed to be the authority on the Twins (with a capital T) and thus is allocated their handler in their first year. He protests he met them once, and it was so long ago they’d never remember him, but the Coach doesn’t listen.

Aran has in fact met them several times and has watched them with feigned disinterest over the years, but he keeps that information to himself and looks to unload the burden as soon as he can.

Everyone’s heard of the Miya Twins, but it’s Atsumu’s name that springs to their lips before Osamu’s. Even if the latter is the better player (just), it’s Atsumu who’s the noticeable one. It’s Atsumu who screams his presence on and off court, and in comparison, Osamu is a whisper.

 

“ _He’s_ a nice kid,” Akagi says, tilting his head as he peruses the pair of them, his eyes resting on Osamu.

“Quiet,” Ren agrees.

Kita, his usual flask in hand, sips tea. “Quiet _er._ ”

“They’re _both_ morons,” snarls Aran and tears into his wrap. He watches as Osamu starts a conversation with Suna Rintarou, their new Middle Blocker, Ginjima Hitoshi hovering on the edges. Atsumu isn’t with them, but sitting on the steps of the gym eating alone. And he ponders the fact that Osamu can add his voice to others, and yet it’s still Atsumu who makes the most noise.

 

In the changing room after a match, the atmosphere is rife with accusations. They won a close fought but scrappy game, a new team in the making now the third years have retired, yet Atsumu hasn’t been backwards in coming forwards over what he perceives as the spikers’ inadequacies. He’d let rip on court, and is still muttering away, even after Aran yelled back and whacked him around the head.

He’s the last to get changed. Osamu’s already dressed, his shirt buttoned to the neck, even his tie tied, and he sits on the bench, staring dead ahead at some point on the wall.

Ginjima, who’d come in for varying amounts of abuse for missing an easy chance, is red in the face, still frustrated. It had only been Kita’s hand on his shoulder that had stopped him from fighting back. A small touch and the fist had unfurled before he’d turned away and back to his position.

“We won,” Aran says to him.

“We could have won bigger!” Atsumu interrupts, coming up behind them. “What’s the point in all this practise if some of you guys don’t get it? Like, why are you even here, Ginjima?”

Ginjima’s hands are shaking and his face has started to pale. Kita’s watching from the other side of the changing room, his hands pausing as he loops a tie around his neck. And then his eyes flick to Osamu, who might look as if he’s not listening, but whose fingers have started to flex.

“Maybe he’s here ‘cuz he’s good, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu replies softly not bothering to even look their way. “Maybe, Gin’s got this wicked serve and don’t need complete silence from the crowd to be able to perform.”

“What?” Atsumu’s attention whiplashes to his brother.

Osamu shrugs and sits back. “Just sayin’,” he murmurs.

“No, you’re whisperin’ … again…” Atsumu says, jabbing his finger at him. “Just like you did on court every time it was my serve.”

It was kind of mesmerising to watch, like a cobra and a mongoose circling each other and waiting for the other to strike. And when he thought back to the match, Aran remembered Osamu muttering out of the side of his mouth, encouragement he’d assumed, but he’d been in the vanguard and unable to hear the exact words.

Atsumu steps closer and bends down to Osamu’s shoulder. “Anyone would think you wanted us to lose, ‘Samu,” he hisses. “Cuz you sucked worse than anyone today.”

Osamu’s eyelids flicker.

“Trash,” Atsumu continues. “Seems like you’ve given up. Maybe you shoulda done that before we got here. Saved me a whole heap of embarrassment knowing I’m related to a useless scrub who—”

He reacts before any of them can intervene, leaping in one fluid movement to his feet and straight at Atsumu, knocking him to the floor.

And Osamu’s whisper becomes a scream.

“IT’S ME THAT’S EMBARRASSED HAVING A HEAP OF CRAP AS MY BROTHER!”

“Stop this!” Kita orders, but their blood was up and Aran doubts they were even aware of their Captain’s existence.

“Pull them apart,” Ren yells, struggling to put his trousers on.

“Oh, boy,” Akagi rolls his eyes and continues to dress. “I’m not getting in the middle of that.”

So it’s Aran who steps up, and Ginjima  too, grabbing one of Osamu’s arms each and hauling him off his flailing half-dressed brother.

“YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT, ‘SAMU!”

From the corner, Suna his shirt untucked, focuses his phone on Osamu. “Can you respond for the camera? Might get it to go viral.”

“AND YOU’RE A MANIPULATIVE, SLIMEY, TWO-FACED—”

Sighing, Suna puts the phone away, and wanders across to help Atsumu to his feet. “Technically ‘two-faced’ is the last thing he is,” he says.

“Aw, thanks,” Atsumu replies, smiling and seemingly none the worse for his bashing.

“You’re equally unpleasant to everyone,” deadpans Suna. “No sugar-coating at all. You tell it how it is. Or at least how you _think_ it is. You both do.”

Both twins blink, not immediately ascertaining whether Suna is insulting or complimenting them, and Aran feels a slight release of tension in his shoulders. He glances at Gin, clasping Osamu’s arm with determination, and then back to Suna.

_Hell, yeah, I’ve found my Miya Handlers. No longer my problem!_

 

 


End file.
